


Turning Page

by kievabea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kievabea/pseuds/kievabea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 7: Merthur Party 2013<br/>Arthur's return marks the beginning of the Golden Age, but it must continue from where it started; with Arthur and Merlin together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Page

Merlin awoke in pale light to the sound of piano. His fingers stretched over the smooth fabric of the sheets, and his eyebrows came together in confusion, lips pursing as he opened his eyes sleepily. 

The music continued as he sat up, wondering if he’d strayed from one dream world to another. One where he had a beautiful home and Arthur was half naked playing piano across the hall, where Merlin could see him through the mostly open door, the muscles in his back moving as his fingers fluttered across the keyboard, head tilting in time to the music. 

But it wasn’t a dream, as Merlin remembered. No, this was real. 

Every morning began like this, with Merlin expecting that his world would crumble away and he’d be left waiting once more. That Arthur had never emerged from Avalon, wet skin sparkling in the sun, though he shone brighter in Merlin’s eyes than any sun he had seen in his thousands of years. 

He rolled out of bed, crossing the room on bare feet to watch Arthur, unable to control the soft smile spreading across his face. In the year since his return, Arthur had picked up piano with ease, playing constantly. When they’d bought the house with money Merlin had made doing odd jobs over the years, but never saw reason to spend, the first piece of furniture they’d added, aside from a bed (which was arguably more important and put to very good use), was the grand piano in the cozy room across the bedroom. 

“What’s this one?” Merlin asked quietly. Arthur’s hands stilled as he turned to grin at him. 

“Not sure… A memory of sorts,” He shrugged. “It’s strange,” He motioned for Merlin to sit beside him on the bench, and Merlin did so, cuddling into Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m not quite sure where I’ve heard it before.” He played a few more chords thoughtfully, but became distracted by Merlin pressing kisses along his jaw. 

“That’s terribly fascinating,” Merlin said between kisses, mouth never leaving Arthur’s skin.

“You certainly seem to think so, idiot,” Arthur laughed, turning his head so that Merlin’s next kiss landed on his lips. 

“Sneaky,” Merlin murmured. 

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur whispered against his lips. Even if Merlin had wanted to protest, it was lost against the warmth and passion of Arthur’s immediate kiss.

It didn’t take long to fall into the familiar pattern of tongues and sighs and roaming hands, with Merlin urging Arthur to come back to bed because damn he’d missed this so much. 

Hours later found them still curled together, exchanging memories of the thousand years they spent apart, even though they’d both heard them a hundred times before. 

“It was empty,” Arthur said, squeezing his eyes shut with a shudder. “It wasn’t cold, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t warm. It just existed. When people I knew – even in passing – died, I could see their spirits for a brief moment, just flit past me. Some were gone before I could properly see them. Some stayed for a few moments. Like Guinevere.” A sad smile came to Arthur’s face. “She knew. I could tell she knew. She touched my hand for a moment, and she nodded, and then she was gone, just like the rest of them.” Arthur opened his eyes once more, looking almost relieved to find Merlin there. “Eventually they just stopped coming. And then I was alone. They all had some destination, except me.” 

“You’re not alone anymore,” Merlin insisted, gripping his hand tightly. “You’ll never be alone again.” 

“Thank the gods for that,” Arthur chuckled. His hand absentmindedly brushed along the scar on Merlin’s shoulder. “Tell me the story again.”

Merlin laughed, “I’ve told you about ten thousand times.”

“Oh, but you were so brave for once,” Arthur teased, circling the small, round scar with his thumb. 

“Prat,” Merlin muttered, but he told the story anyway. It had been during World War II. He’d thought Arthur had to be coming back this time, because it wasn’t possible for the world to get any worse than it was then. But he hadn’t returned, and (not for the first time) Merlin had wanted to die. Still, this was the first time he’d actually made an effort to do so. This part of the story Merlin left out, because he knew it would only trouble Arthur. 

“He was like Gwaine in an uncanny way, and we were friends quickly,” Merlin was recalling. “But you know Gwaine. Too reckless for his own good. Chivalrous, naturally. Always getting into the thick of things. And that’s exactly what Rory did, the idiot. Right in the middle of open fire. I may have cheated a bit – slowed the bullet using magic like I did with that knife and Lady Helen who was neither Helen or a lady,” Merlin chuckled. “But I couldn’t stop it in time. So I got in the way of it instead.” That part wasn’t true. In that moment, dying would seem so simple and accidental. It was easy, really, to give himself up to save Rory. Heroic, even. Destiny had other plans, though. “We got to a medic in time, the bullet wasn’t too deep, but it left me with that rotten scar.”

“I like it,” Arthur said stubbornly, pressing a kiss to it. 

“I like you,” Merlin replied cheerily. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Arthur laughed, kissing him. 

“Ah, but you’re stuck with me,” Merlin said cheekily. 

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Arthur murmured into the crook of Merlin’s neck. Then he sat up quite suddenly, looking at the piano across the hall in shock.

“What?” Merlin asked, craning his neck, but seeing nothing.

“The song – the memory,” Arthur whispered in awe, “I know what it means.” 

“What?” Merlin asked eagerly, sitting up and looking at Arthur. 

“Each note, depending on its place on the scale, represents a letter.”

“That’s common piano knowledge, Arthur, hate to break it to you.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur shoved him playfully. “I mean starting on the bass clef and moving to treble, but not as regular notes go. Not stopping at G, I mean, and then restarting at A. Going on down the alphabet. Don’t you see Merlin? It’s a message.” Arthur met Merlin’s eyes, a beam stretching across his face, one of pure happiness. “It’s time for the Golden Age. And I know what we need to do.” 

“Albion,” Merlin whispered. 

“And we’ll get there. Together.”

“Side by side,” Merlin agreed, pulling Arthur in for a deep kiss. 

After all, Albion had waited this long. It could hold off for a few more minutes.


End file.
